Page 115 of Because of Blake

Michelle’s eyes light up. “Perfect. Do you know what he’s doing? Where he’ll be?”

“He’s not doing anything.”

“What? It’s his thirtieth birthday. Why wouldn’t he do something?”

“Because after he did such a wonderful job on my birthday, I asked him what he wanted for his. All he said was ‘You, Maggie.’” I recall the depth of his voice and the flash in his eyes as he said it, and my stomach flips.

Michelle lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, we got to fix this now. I won’t let you lose a man with lines like that. Tell you what. I’ll come over on Friday and stay with the kids, so you don’t worry about them. You can go find Blake and make up. Don’t come home.”

Friday afternoon, I’m standing on Blake’s porch, wearing the sundress I wore on our first night together. I’ve chewed off all my fingernails, licked the lip gloss clean from my lips, and swallowed a million times, trying to quench my dry throat.

But I can’t work up the courage to knock. What if I do and he slams the door in my face? Or worse, what if he doesn’t answer at all?

My heart pounds in my chest. At least if he slams the door on me, I’ll know he’s done. But if he doesn’t answer? I’ll be left wondering if I should do this all over again. I’d never get over it.

I shake my head and don’t give myself another second to think about it before knocking on the door.

Silence.

I ring the bell. Three times.

Still, nothing.

My pounding heart sinks, turning to ice. I turn to shuffle away, when a thought hits me. Oscar didn’t bark.If Blake is home and ignoring my knocking, Oscar would have barked at the door. Realization smacks me in the face.

He’s not home.

I think hard for a minute about where he could be. The bar? Getting drunk and drowning in pussy, as Michelle so eloquently put it?

No. That’s not who he is.

Then where would he be? It’s Friday afternoon, so it’s possible he’s still working, but he told me he took the day off. Plans change, though.

I wrack my brain until I come up with the answer. I run back up the street, dashing into my house to grab my purse and car keys, completely ignoring Michelle’s and my children’s questions before racing out to my car. Peeling down the road, my hands grip the wheel so tight, my knuckles are white.

Since I don’t have a park pass, I have to pay to get into the reservoir, but it’s worth it. Blake is worth it.

I pull into the parking lot and hike to Blake’s favorite spot.Please be here.As I round the bend, I get a small glimpse of Blake sitting by the water’s edge before Oscar jumps all over me.

Blake whips his head around at the commotion. His face lights up for the briefest of moments, before falling back into defeat as he turns away.

I kneel down, settling Oscar with an ear rub. “Guess there’s no sneaking up on you, is there?”

“What are you doing here, Maggie?” His tone is heavy, not at all like the deep, gravel I’ve come to love. Now, it’s laced with anger and hurt, and it stabs me in the gut.

“I, uh–” I step forward, my eyes locked on Blake’s hunched shoulders. His breaths are getting deeper. I can tell by the way his torso expands with each one. “I wanted you to know I started seeing my therapist again. Had my first appointment last week, and I’ll be going every Tuesday.”

He turns his chin over his shoulder. “That’s really great. I’m glad you’re going again, but did you come all the way out here to tell me that?”

“No.” I inch closer, and my eyes fall to the drawing pad and pencils sitting on his other side. My mouth curls into a smile.

“Then why are you here?” He turns back to the water, its gentle lapping keeping the silence between us at bay.

“Because I– I–” I can’t bring myself to say the words I don’t even know he’ll accept. I bite my lip and wring my hands in front of me, my jaw quivering as I turn my gaze to the beautiful sunset shining on the water. I turn back to him. “I’m sorry, Blake.”

He turns his head to me, his eyes full of pain locking on mine, and he scoots over to offer me a seat. I hesitate, but sit down on the blanket next to him. We sit in silence for several minutes, watching the sunset and listening to the lake, but we don’t touch. Though we’re inches apart, I feel his heat burning my arm and it’s devastating to know he’s no longer mine to hold.

When he doesn’t speak, I get nervous, thinking he didn’t hear me. So I repeat, “I’m sorry.”